


It’s Quiet in Alexandria

by michonnesboys



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Child Death, F/M, Five Stages of Grief, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27994563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michonnesboys/pseuds/michonnesboys
Summary: Michonne and Rick grieving over Carl in their own ways.tw / grief , blood , death , gore mentions
Relationships: Rick Grimes/Michonne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	It’s Quiet in Alexandria

——. Denial

Gunshot. 

Clang.

Silence.

Those three sounds seemed to be playing over and over in surround sound as Rick cradled his head to his knees. All his hardwork and determination had been for his boy. Everything he had done since that moment Lori had her first kid; it had been for Carl. Now as he sat on the weakly supported steps of an abandoned church, his head throbbed with the effort of trying to produce tears that weren’t there. There was no way this could be happening. He had run through all the outcomes and losses he would have to face during the end of the world, and somehow Carl had never made it on the list.

A weak cry sounded to his left, reminding him that Michonne was seated right next to him. He glanced at her, sighing softly. She was wiping a few stray tears with the back of her hand, staring straight ahead at the empty smoking streets. She felt Rick’s eyes on her and after a second she looked over. Her brown eyes were filled with so much pain and guilt that Rick had to look away again. He stood up stiffly, moving hesitantly towards the door of the church.

“C’mon. Sooner we get him buried...the sooner we can get back to the others. Make sure th-they’re alright.”

His voice was wavering along with his facade of leader.

“Can’t we just sit here a moment… I can’t see him. Not yet. I-“

“I can’t sit here, Michonne. Negan and the rest of those saviors could be plotting their next move. We need to get ready for a war.”

Michonne shifted uncomfortably at Rick’s change of tone, sniffling softly. 

“That can wait for a second later, can’t it? Carl just d-,” She trailed off with her inability to finish the word and with how visibly Rick tensed up. 

He didn’t want to hear it or believe it. All he could focus on was what needed to be done, what he was skilled in doing since the apocalypse had started: burying the dead and ridding his people of their enemies. 

“I can’t carry him on my own, not anymore.”

Rick didn’t say anything else as he turned to go through the church doors but sure enough Michonne was following behind him. The air was physically sucked out of the both of them when their boy came into view. Limp and lifeless, surrounded by a pool of his own dark red blood. Michonne’s hand went to her stomach as nausea washed over her but that didn’t stop her walk towards him. Though it was only a few feet, it felt like eternity. Their steps drummed loudly in their ears as they made it up to him.

Michonne moved to her knees, rubbing her hand over his face to close his eyes. It would be the last time she saw those bright blue eyes, noticing how that light had faded. Her thumbs wiped at the cold tears that were streaked down his cheeks and it pained her to know his last moments had been so sad. He looked younger now that the normal furrow in his brow had ceased but he was grey where he had once been rosy and pink. She leaned forward and let her head rest against his chest. Part of her wished she could hear a thump or tick still ringing in his rib cage, but like the rest of him his heart had stilled. Maybe it was seeing him like this, or confirming that his heart had stopped, but she broke down and sobbed into his dingy plaid shirt. 

Michonne’s chest heaved as she fought to breathe properly. It was the weird sense of dejavu that was hitting her from yet again losing her son. Though she had given birth to Andre, this seemed worse. It was seeing Carl grow up just to hold his lifeless body that seemed to stab and gut her. He had barely reached adulthood. He couldn’t be anymore than eighteen, maybe younger. She had failed as a mother, again.

Rick watched from where he stood, numb to the whole situation. He squatted to pick up the gun, Carl’s gun, and tucked it in his belt. After that, he placed a hand on Michonne’s shoulder, squeezing a bit. He wasn’t sure how much support he was capable of giving at this point. The man looked everywhere but his son, his mind racing with all the things he had yet to teach him and if anything he could have taught might have saved him. Though Carl was just as stubborn as he was and the boy would have made his own decisions until the very end. Rick massaged his temple at the thought. 

This was the end, wasn’t it?

——. Anger

Michonne walked a little bit behind Rick as they journeyed through the streets of their community. All the houses and buildings were evacuated and some were just burned down completely. The air was thick with grey smoke and the streets were dusted with ash but still Michonne could see and hear Carl everywhere.

It was a rooftop she had seen him sit upon when he needed to be alone, it was a bench she had watched him chase Judith around. Michonne felt his presence like a blanket as they walked home, or what they hoped was still a home. The shovel was weighing down in her arms, as did the fact that Carl never would have a proper burial. There would be no ceremony, no speech, no roses to send him off. It had been just silence aside from the noises of her and Rick’s digging. She wasn’t ready to put him in the ground and Rick had to send her away for a second to collect herself. Michonne got to kiss his forehead one more time. It would have to surfice. 

Now that the deed was done and Carl was laid to rest, she just felt empty. She wasn’t sure what Rick was feeling and she knew there was no way of truly knowing. He was tense as he walked ahead of her, his shoulders slumped as he carried his own shovel. His son’s blood was staining his hands from where he had lifted the top half of him. In those moments of carrying Carl, he was taken back to the previous times Carl had narrowly missed death from gunshot wounds. Third time’s the charm apparently, and Rick was disgusted that the bullet that finally killed the boy had been his own.

Rick stopped when their house came into view. It wasn’t completely demolished but the roof was down on one side and their front door was hanging off the hinges. Michonne gasped softly and walked a bit faster. They were careful about their steps in case the saviors left any surprises for them but as Rick was examining the doorway, Michonne’s attention was caught by a flash of blue. She turned on her heel and kicked a fallen piece of wood out of the way. Her eyes brimmed with tears again at the sight of two blue hand prints. She kneeled down and placed her palm against the biggest one.

“Rick...look.”

The man looked in her direction, taking in the sight of his son’s handprint. A message to them, just like his letters, that he wasn’t truly leaving. He nodded then turned back to the doorframe, about to step inside until Michonne's soft voice stopped him again.

“Do you think we can cut this board? We could hang it up in his memory.” There was a hopefulness in her voice, a small spark of joy and for some reason it made Rick irritated. 

Rick didn’t even turn around when he replied. 

“We have to gather whatever necessary things we need from this house. There’s no telling when the saviors will be back.”

“He left this here for a reason. It won’t take long to cut it out. We deserve time. We can’t just rush back into this pointless war.”

Rick looked at her, shooting imaginary daggers with just a glance. She was still kneeling with her hand on Carl’s print like it would animate and hold onto hers. 

“We don’t have time, Michonne. For Carl, for grief, for any of this. This war has started and you’re not helping anything by sitting there nursing dried paint.”

She seemed taken aback by his statement and she stood and pushed past him into the house. He half expected her to yell back at him, but all he heard was a pathetic sniffle from her. 

“Listen, ‘Chonne. I didn’t mean to make you upset I just-,” He paused when he realized she was carrying a saw now, pushing past him again and dropping to the floor. She wasted no time at all to start sawing away at the plank with their kids’ hands on it.

“Go pack whatever it is you think we need, Rick. I’m not leaving until this is safe with me.”

“Michonne.”

She didn’t pause her cutting, nor did she look his way. He could feel the way anger seemed to radiate off of her, determination etched into her brow.

“Michonne, will ya’ just stop,” he made the mistake of placing his hand on her arm only to have it slapped away.

“Just! Go, Rick. It may be just paint to you but it means everything to me right now! He meant everything to me...and now he’s gone. The least I can do is take this,” she was crying again, “because he left it for us. For me.”

She dropped the saw and covered her face with her hands. She was crying freely now, her shoulders jolting up and down. Rick knelt by her side, wrapped his arms around her. She fought it at first but then she melted into his hold immediately. He wanted to cry with her over his son but he wasn’t ready. Michonne needed him right now. He rubbed her back, kissed the top of her head.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

She didn’t respond but she dug her face deeper into his chest instead. It pained him to see the strongest woman he knew, crumbling into him. When her crying lightened, she pulled away and let him wipe her tears.

“I’ll finish cutting it out. Just go pack some clothes, water, and anything you think we may need for the trip to Hilltop.”

She searched his eyes, almost as if she didn’t trust he would cut it out, but she nodded anyway and stood. As Michonne walked through the house she felt cold. It wasn’t like home to her without the radio blaring Rick’s horrible music, Judy’s tantrums, and Carl’s repeated thumps of his darts on his dartboard. She smiled weakly at how angry he would get that his aim was off without both of his eyes. He used to come whine about it to her whenever they were stuck together in the house.

She started packing things up like Rick asked, going throughout the house. She passed by Carl’s cracked bedroom door a few times before she caved and went inside. It was so him. It was messy even though he barely had anything to make it that way. His bed was made though. She stepped over his pile of collected comic books, her heart swelling at the ones she had found him back at the prison. She rarely came in here at all, she realized, and she found herself looking around with a childlike curiosity. Opening his closet she pulled out one of his jackets. It smelled like him after all the times he had worn it but she had been the one to find it in an abandoned retail store. She threw it on then walked back out with the two bags she packed.

Downstairs, Rick was opening up the cabinets and double checking for canned food. When he saw her, he nodded.

“Ready to go?”

“Did you get it? The board?,” she asked.

He picked it up from the counter and showed it to her. She handed him one of the bags and took the plank into her arms and held it close. 

“Then I’m ready.”

•••

The car ride to Hilltop felt longer this time. Both of them had remained unnaturally quiet and the radio remained shut off. Michonne was leaning her head against the window, watching as the trees passed by. Something clicked in the back of her brain, reminding her that she still had yet to read the letter Carl had written for her. She sat up and reached into her bag, shuffling through the letters until she found the one with her name on it.

Rick side eyed her, flicking his attention back to the road when he saw what she was doing. That throbbing in his temple was back and his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. They weren’t anywhere near Hilltop yet and he sighed. He tried to focus on the road but the random stifled giggles and sniffles were chipping away with the very little nerve he had left. When he heard her folding the letter back up, his shoulders relaxed a bit. 

“You should read yours…”

Here she goes again, he thought.

Rick shook his head, bringing one of his thumbnails to his teeth. It reminded Michonne very much of Daryl. 

“Can’t. I’m driving.”

“I can drive. We could stop...I can read it to you.”

“No.”

Michonne ran her thumb over Rick’s name where Carl had written it. This would be the hardest thing Rick would have to overcome, she was sure of it, but right now he wasn’t doing too hot. She reached over and placed her hand over the one that was gripping the wheel. She rubbed her thumb over the back of it for a second. Then she went back to the letters until one of the names took her attention.

Negan...he had written to Negan.

“There’s a letter for Negan. “

The car screeched to a stop, jolting both of them forward and sending the letters in Michonne’s lap to the floor. Rick turned to her and took the letter from her. With a clenched jaw he exited the car, slamming the door behind him. Before Michonne could ask any questions, he was walking off and creating a distance between himself and the car. Michonne cleaned up the rest of the letters and stored them inside her bag.

When Rick came back he seemed angrier than he had been. Michonne decided not to ask what he had done but instead took Negan’s letter from him when he handed it to her. He started the car back up and they were off again to Hilltop. 

•••

The thing about child death is people tend to focus on the mother, or in this case the mother figure. Rick held his tongue as the people of Hilltop seemed to pass more sympathy over to Michonne than to him. It was weird to him to feel so much envy over this but he did his best to keep a straight face. He was exhausted as it was, letting everyone know Carl’s fate. So much crying surrounded him and he wanted to yell at them to stop being so dramatic. It was his son, shouldn’t he be the one being comforted?

Rick and Michonne made their way through the crowd and swarm of questions, finally reaching their destination: Daryl Dixion. He was bouncing Judith on his knee as he sat on a porch step. His face was grim and aged and both of them knew he was feeling the weight of Carl’s death too. Even Judith was hiding her face into the hunter’s neck like she had a clue of what was going on. When Rick and Michonne reached him, Daryl looked up at them tight-lipped.

“Thanks Daryl. Hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”

Daryl shook his head and let Michonne pick up the two year old. Judith clung to her out of reflex and Michonne had this look of a mother who had found her cub. Judith made grabby hands in Daryl’s direction and the man handed her the brown hat that her brother had given her before he said goodbye.

“Think she knows…?,” Daryl fiddled with a string on his pants.

The three only watched as Judith clung to the hat as if it were a plush teddy bear. 

Yeah, she knows.

Later that day, the couple were walking the grounds of Hilltop, debating on their next play of action. Everyone had lost so much and the feeling of tiredness was thick in the air. Rick had been inspecting the fences as they walked, just in case the saviors found them. Maggie had done wonders building up the place and both of them had been equally impressed. Hershel would have been proud of what his daughter had become.

“I say tonight we get Maggie to talk to her people. Get them ready to fight.”

“Well you can’t just throw this on them last minute, Rick. Besides, I was serious when I said we should take a break. Even just a few days.”

Both of them had been walking eggshells around each other and it seemed all of the people could feel it. Everyone had been talking to them like they would break at any moment. So many parents had lost their kids but no one had expected one of those kids to be Carl Grimes. It had been unthinkable. But now that it had happened to them, it truly seemed that no one was safe anymore.

Rick had stopped to feel at one of the walls, busying himself from looking at her.

“Michonne. We can’t wait any longer to strike. That’s what they expect us to do.”

Michonne turned him towards her gently, “You don’t know what they’re expecting...or what they are going to do. That’s my point. We need time to think up a serious plan.”

“I have a plan. Kill them. All of them.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Michonne reached into her pocket and pulled out Carl’s letter. Rick turned away almost instantly and started to walk in the opposite direction.

“Rick. If you just read what he wrote to you, you’d understand that this isn’t what Carl wanted.”

“Don’t Michonne.” 

There was a warning tone in his voice that Michonne never heard him use on her specifically. He kept walking but Michonne was following at his heels with the letter in her hand, raised like a weapon.

“You can’t just walk away from this! Carl had ideas. There was so much he wanted us to see. A vision. We have to try and honor it.”

Rick spun around so fast, the both of them nearly knocked into each other. He pointed a finger at her with a building anger so fierce his ears seemed to be smoking.

“I know what Carl wanted. I read his letter he wrote for Negan. He wants us to drop this war, to surrender to the saviors.”

Michonne pushed his hand away, “ No! He wants us to stop using killing as a way out. And he’s right. There will be nothing left for Judith if we don’t learn how to work things out. It can’t be like this forever.”

Her frustration was tittering over the edge as she spoke, frustrated tears brimming her eyes.

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what, Rick?”

“Speaking to me like you know what’s best for my kids! Like you know what’s best for Carl.”

Michonne raised an eyebrow, “....Our kids.”

He ignored her surprised murmur, “I just lost my boy. You don’t know what that’s like! You weren’t there to hold him for the first time. You didn’t see how the world was endless possibilities in his little eyes! I lost my kid! My son!”

He took a breath, “And you have the nerve to tell me what Carl wanted-“

Rick was silenced instantly by Michonne slapping him across the face with so much force he had to hold his jaw afterwards. It struck him that he probably had gone too far. 

“How dare you! I don’t know what it’s like to lose a kid?! I had to see the corpse of my three year old son torn apart! All because I was stupid enough to leave him with his father.”

There was a weak crack in her voice and she looked as if she could fall over any minute from the pain.

“I couldn’t speak more than a few words at a time for months! I wanted to die, Rick. I’m trying so hard to keep it together right now because every time I think about Carl all I can think about is how I lost my boy, again!”

Many of the people nearby had stopped to look at them as if they were some show. Michonne didn’t stop though and instead she moved to hit at his chest with her fists over and over in hopes it would make her feel better.

“He was my kid too! Fuck you!”

He didn’t try to push her off or hit her back but soon she was being grabbed by the waist from behind and pulled away. It was Daryl and she resisted the urge to hit him too for interrupting her outburst.

“Alright ‘Chonne, C’mon. It ain’t worth it.”

“I hate you, Rick.”

She didn’t mean it, but the look of hurt on his face was enough to make her feel better even if only slightly.

As Daryl pulled her towards the main building, she could barely register Daryl telling people to mind their business. Rick watched them walk off from the spot he stood, feeling immensely guilty.

——. Bargaining

For the next couple of days after Rick and Michonne’s big fight, there was a thick tension throughout Alexandria that wasn’t just about the saviors anymore. Everyone seemed to be up to date on what had happened, down to the boy’s death. There was a gloomy emotion coating everyone, including the fact that Carl wasn’t the only one lost that day. Still, sympathetic apologies lingered on people’s tongues whenever they passed the couple.

Michonne tended to stay inside more, keeping Judith attached practically to her hip while Rick walked alone around the inside and outside of the perimeter. He’d mumble things about keeping watch but it was obvious who he was avoiding. Or it was obvious he was avoiding the fact that Michonne was avoiding him. Even Judith chose to stick by the woman instead of him. 

Though most of the sympathy was shown towards Michonne, a heavy sense of pity flooded everyone who saw Rick.The man was tired from lack of sleep. He’d pace the community into the early mornings of dawn, muttering things to himself, separating himself. Then he’d crash and be found sleeping under a tree or at the lunch tables with a map of war plans under his cheek. Maggie had been overheard talking to Daryl about Rick calling out for his son at random times like he could still see him walking around as well and yet Rick still insisted on plotting and planning Negan’s downfall.

It was painful to watch.

•••

Daryl sat down next to Rick, overlooking the valley of tree stumps that could be seen from the high post they were perched on. For a moment the men didn’t speak, just sat patiently in each other’s company. It was Carol who had sent the hunter up to the ex cop, prompting him to check on his friend. He had been tiptoeing hhhhhhh around Rick, never being the best when it came to grief. His heart lurched for Beth for a moment before he cleared his throat.

Rick looked over to him with eyes that were pink and red rimmed. He didn’t even try to hide his emotions this time and instead went back to resting his chin on his forearm that was lying across his propped up knees. 

“He’d like it up here,” Rick started, “ever since he was little he had this obsession with climbing onto tall things and just staying there. Scared Lori half to death one year because we couldn’t find him for hours. Wanna know where he was?”

Daryl gave an affirmative grunt.

“The oak tree in the backyard. He had hid up there all because he failed a spelling test. It's crazy to think about things like that with all the hell we’ve been through...he was once terrified of something so unimportant as a bad grade.”

Rick rubbed at his eyes before looking down at his watch to check the time. 

“Brave kid. Always was.”

Rick nodded.

“But man, when y’ gonna get some real sleep. You look like shit,” Daryl chuckled uncomfortably.

“I sleep. Not often but I do. There’s no time right now. There will never be enough time until Negan and his men are dead. Every last one.”

Daryl wanted to say something else but bit it back and said something else instead. 

“How ya holdin’ up.”

“I’m going to be alright. Eventually. I can’t focus on it right now.”

“I get that.”

Rick nodded, “I just start thinking about all the things I should have done, things I could have said. That man,” his brain groped for the name, “Siddiq. I should have helped him when Carl told me to.” 

Daryl shook his head and rested his hand on Rick’s slumped shoulder, not knowing what to say for a moment.

“That ain’t your fault, man.”

“No. Maybe not but he wouldn’t have gone out there to do it himself if I- He’d still be here if I hadn’t told him no.”

Rick shut his eyes tightly before taking a shaky breath. He stood from his spot and climbed down the post, leaving Daryl behind. When his worn boots hit the ground he heard the piercing cries of Judith that sent chills straight to his core. Heart spiking, he found her with his eyes. There was no real danger, the girl was having her knee nursed over. Rick jogged over with a slight look of concern then anxiety when he realized how close he was to Michonne. He hadn’t been this close in days considering they weren’t even sharing the same bed anymore. 

Rick saw the small scrape on Judith’s knee and stepped back a bit when Michonne picked her up and placed her on a hip. The tiny blonde instantly buried her face in Michonne’s neck, shielding herself from the sun with the woman’s locs. She was still crying steadily but she seemed more content. Michonne however, looked terribly tired.

“I can take her- if you want?”

Michonne glared at him and seemed to clutched Judith closer to her, “I can handle it, Rick. It’s a scraped knee.”

And before Rick could utter anything else, she turned on her heel and walked away with the little girl who seemed to be looking a lot more like her older brother lately. 

They would go on like this for months.

——. Acceptance 

He had done it. They had. Many of Negan’s people were dead while the others had surrendered and now they had Negan himself. Rick rubbed his hands together that were sticky with Negan’s warm blood. Rick smiled slightly at the sky, hoping deeply that Carl had seen what he did.

Rick had read his letter, he had even read some of Michonne’s. Carl wanted something greater and it was decided, without many others knowing, that he would keep Negan alive. The screams of Maggie still rang in his ears and he knew many people thought what he had done was foolish, but Carl didn’t. Carl wanted them to move past the barbaric nature of killing as a solution and maybe this decision wouldn’t work out in the long run, but right now Rick felt euphoric. It was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders and he could finally breathe. Negan would not be dying today.

Rick felt a presence beside him, looking up he saw Michonne. His small smile faltered and he tensed and she moved to sit next to him, under the tree. He couldn’t find anything to say even though it seemed she was waiting on him to.

“I’m sorry...for everything,” he couldn’t pull himself to look at her, “You were everything a mother should be to Carl and then some.”

She sighed softly, “What you did today. He would be proud of you.” 

She had completely avoided what he had said. He looked over at her and went to reach for her arm but realized his hands were dirty.

“Michonne…I don’t deserve anything you do or have done for me. It was selfish of me, what I said. I know that now, but I think things can be better now. They have to be right?”

“Rick…”

“No. I knew how much he meant to you and I shouldn’t have compared our pain. I shouldn’t have diminished yours. Please, just hear me out when I say that-“

He trailed off when he felt her slip her hand into his, she was still looking off into the distance. He felt his body go slack, melting into that comfort. She squeezed his hand once and that was enough.

“There’s still a long way to go, for us...for Alexandria. I’m not worried about it as long as we agree to work together,” she looked into his eyes for the first time in months and cupped his jaw with her now bloodied hand. 

“I can’t do this without you, Rick. I mean that.”

Rick rested his head against hers in a relieved puff of breath, “I miss him, Michonne.”

She pulled a sharp breath, “Every day.”

He pulled back a bit and caught her eye, “But we did good with him. We did.”

There was an intense silence that held them for longer than it should have before Michonne leaned in and kissed him with so much force it seemed she was trying to get back what they had missed.

“I love you, Rick Grimes.”

“I love you too.”


End file.
